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I reached for my firearm just to be on the safe side. When I got to the corridor, the knocking persisted, and I was getting worried.
“Carson, open the fucking door.”
What the fuck?
“Prescott?” I said as I pulled it open.
He looked unhinged. The last time I had seen him like this was when things took a bad turn with Jana.
He walked in and immediately went to the couch and sat down, running his hands through his hair.
“Is this becoming our thing now?” I joked, referring to a couple of weeks ago when Jess came back to town.
“Fuck, I need a drink,” he exhaled as he threw his head back.
“Babe,” Ori’s concerned voice came from down the hall.
“Go back to bed,” I told her as I pressed a soft kiss to her lips, my eyes heating when I saw her shirt had raised, showing her barely-there baby bump.
“Okay,” she murmured against my lips.
“It’s cute how you guys are such good friends that he runs here whenever he has issues.”
I must have made a face, because it made her smile.
“If you guys need anything, let me know,” she said with a yawn.
“Babe, sleep.” I pointed to the bed.
“Wake me up when he leaves.” She got up on her tip-toes and kissed me a little deeper than I had.
Why was my life filled with cockblocking people?
“Nosey,” I teased.
“Investigative journalist,” she shot back as she went back to bed.
I shook my head and headed to the living room with a goofy smile.
“I almost shot you,” I told Prescott as I removed my firearm and put it on the coffee table. I would put it away once he left. “So, what happened this time? Did you help Rosie run away? Freya leaving Max?”
I knew that one would never happen.
“Jana stopped by again telling you that you needed to move on with your life?”
He shot me a dark look.
“I have a kid,” he said as he looked at the floor.
My stomach dropped at his words, so I had an idea of how he was feeling.
“I thought, you know…” I made a cutting motion with my index and middle finger.
It was something he did because he was still in his self-loathing era, and I think it was something he still hadn’t forgiven himself about.
Prescott cleared his throat. “I have a teenage kid.”
“Fuck,” I managed to say.
